


dispute resolution

by rqtheory



Series: hold it, hold it, hold it steady [5]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, a really inadvisable number of HR-related jokes, mistreatment of innocent clothing, remarkably erotic raincoats, sex on a kitchen counter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 07:45:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12883302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rqtheory/pseuds/rqtheory
Summary: Taako is storming down to HR before he really even thinks about it, sailing furiously past Brad’s staff - even Kendra averts her eyes from his face - and kicking the door to Brad’s office open. “Come on, Bradson,” he says, by way of greeting. “What the hell.”“Taako,” Brad says, voice even, but there’s a light in his eyes that immediately lets Taako know he’s about to be fucked with and it makes him, if possible, even more enraged. “How unexpected. What can I do for you?”





	dispute resolution

**INTER-OFFICE MEMO**

**To** :      Taako

 **From** :    Brad

 **RE** :    Recordkeeping expectations

Taako

I appreciate that the demands on your time are significant and varied, but unfortunately I’m not able to approve your recent application for reimbursement without better substantiation documentation.

I’ve attached the application for you to redo.

Brad

 

Taako stares at the memo, enraged. He’d thought they were past this.

\--

_Two weeks earlier_

“It’s fucking bullshit that I have to go to training on Saturday mornings and you get to sleep in,” Taako grouses, yanking last night’s t-shirt over his head.

“I’m very sorry,” Brad tells him, sounding absolutely not. “You can file a complaint with management about your work schedule if–“

Taako whirls, throws the shorts he was about to step into at Brad’s head. “It’s too early for your stupid jokes, Bradson.”

Brad is grinning when he emerges from the shorts, which he begins, smugly, to swing around his index finger. “Are these for me? Training in your underwear is an unorthodox strategy, I’ll admit, but don’t you think the element of surprise will be outweighed by your-“ he cocks his head. “State of undress.”

Taako launches himself at Brad, who lifts the shorts up above his head, out of Taako’s reach. There’s a struggle, but Brad is bigger and stronger, and Taako’s - well he can’t burn a spell slot on this, what if- what if something _serious_ happens at training, and-

“They do feel a bit threadbare,” Brad muses, as though his spare arm isn’t currently locked around Taako’s middle, pressing him forward against Brad’s torso. As though Taako isn’t halfway distracted by the feel of his belly pressing against Brad’s, warm breath on his ear, too close. “Not much armour value.”

“Shut up,” he mutters, suddenly embarrassed. “Haven’t had time to buy new ones.”

“Well you should make use of the Extreme Conditions Equipment Allowance,” Brad says, all business, as though Taako’s not currently straddling Brad’s thigh, in Brad’s bed, after staying the night at Brad’s apartment. “The Bureau reimburses reasonable expenses for new clothing and the like.”

The phrase ‘new clothing’ permeates the haze of morning arousal that’s beginning to settle over his brain. “Wait, what?”

Brad leans back, pushes the shorts against his chest. “The Bureau will reimburse you if you have to buy new clothing. You know, for extreme conditions. Hot weather, snow. Somewhere very rainy. That sort of thing.”

“Are you fucking serious, Bradson? You’re gonna pay for me to buy a sexy raincoat?”

Taako revels in the satisfaction of making Brad choke on a bark of laughter. “Provided it works as a proper rain slicker and you include sufficient documentation substantiating your claims, yes.”

“Huh.” He leans backwards, taps a finger against Brad’s sternum. “You know Taako’s gonna buy the good shit.”

“Well, there is a limit,” Brad says, “But as Critical Personnel it’s quite high.”

“You’re telling me that my boss is gonna fund a new wardrobe.”

“Within reason,” Brad says, firm, and pushes the shorts into Taako’s chest. “Now get going, you’ll be late.”

He knee-walks backwards, slithers off the end of the bed. Turns around and bends over just to make a show of pulling the shorts up his legs, over his ass. There’s a short, bitten-off noise behind him, and when he straightens up and turns around Brad’s eyes are a little wild.

“Okay,” he says, carefree. “Thanks for the tip.”

“Welcome,” Brad grits out, as Taako skips smugly out of the room.

\--

He’d made it sound so simple. Taako had even looked up the stupid Employee Relations Advice for once, found the right form, duly filled everything out. And yet, here’s a dumb memo from Brad casting snide aspersions on his professionalism. He yanks it off the fridge where it’s been neatly affixed with a magnet, leafs through the paperwork. He filled out every box on this stupid form, Brad, _what is your actual DEAL._

Taako is storming down to HR before he really even thinks about it, sailing furiously past Brad’s staff - even Kendra averts her eyes from his face - and kicking the door to Brad’s office open. “Come on, Bradson,” he says, by way of greeting. “What the hell.”

“Taako,” Brad says, voice even, but there’s a light in his eyes that immediately lets Taako know he’s about to be fucked with and it makes him, if possible, even more enraged. “How unexpected. What can I do for you?”

“What’s with this passive aggressive bullshit,” Taako says, tosses the memo and his application on Brad’s desk. The orc picks it up, leafs through it casually. “You _told_ me this was okay.”

“I also told you you needed to substantiate your claims,” Brad counters, and leans back in his chair, tapping the sheaf of papers against his hand. “There’s nothing wrong with the form, but where are your receipts?” He sighs. “You listed out a number of items, but - forgive me, ‘Hot as fuck denim cutoff booty shorts’ sounds like something I know you already own. You can’t claim reimbursement for items you purchased in a previous financial year.”

“Sounds like something you know I already own,” Taako repeats, his irritation slipping for a moment. “Mr Bradson. Have you been keeping track of my wardrobe?”

“I know I’ve seen them on my bedroom floor once or twice.”

Taako is legitimately shocked. “ _Inappropriate workplace conversation_ , Bradson!”

Brad smirks at him. “Forgive me, I don’t know what I was thinking.” The expression disappears almost immediately - it’s so fucking freaky how he does that - and he says, profesh as hell, “All I need are receipts, or some other form of substantiation, and I can approve the reimbursement.”

“Fine,” Taako says, rolling his eyes. “Whatever. I’ll substantiate.” He holds out his hand for the papers, and Brad hands them over, then smiles blandly at him.

“It’s a pleasure, as always,” he says - Taako’s being mocked and he hates it. “I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”

“You wish,” he says, bereft of a better comeback, and stalks out of Brad’s office.

\--

Taako feels ridiculous.

He looks ridiculous. This whole thing is completely insane, and he knows it, but - but. He has a hunch that it will work. A vague notion - nothing concrete, but drawn from the glance of Brad’s eyes up the line of his quads, the way his hands trace Taako’s hamstrings, the way his nails dig into Taako’s hips - that this might play into one of Brad’s weaknesses.

He knocks on the door.

“Just a moment!” Brad calls, and Taako has enough time to commit to the bit and pull the hood up over his head, then stuff his hands in his pockets, before Brad’s door swings open, and he’s standing there, in the BOB polo shirt - his only concession to Casual Fridays - a bottle of cider in his hand, and the most ridiculous expression Taako’s seen on his idiot face.

Things are going well so far.

Taako squints up at him from underneath the raincoat’s visor. “Can I come in?”

“I-“ Brad’s eyes slide, reluctant but inevitable, from Taako’s face down - taking in the raincoat, in all its bright teal glory, the fact that it stops indecently high up Taako’s thighs, which are bare. The shiny gold sneakers. “Are we going on a hike?’

Taako snorts, pushes past Brad into the apartment. “I’m substantiating.” He places himself in the centre of the room, turns back to Brad with a flourish. “You wanted receipts, you got em.”

“Are you naked under that rain slicker, Taako?” Brad asks him. His voice is mild, but the sudden straightness of his spine and the challenge in his eyes reaches out to Taako’s own nervous anticipation, blood firing hot through his veins. Part of him wants to be annoyed at Brad’s old man vocabulary but his brain won’t stop circling over the lull of his voice over _slicker_ , the lascivious curl of his tongue around it.

“What kind of pervert,” Taako says, delicately pulling at the first plastic press-stud at the top of the jacket until it opens with a snap, leaving his neck and collarbones exposed, “would traipse around the Bureau wearing nothing but a raincoat and shoes?”

Brad is closing on him, slowly, eyes avidly tracking the movement of Taako’s hands as he flicks open the next button. The rustle of the plastic is ridiculously loud, and he hooks a finger over the top of the third stud and pulls down, splitting it open.

Taako hadn’t bothered to do up the zip, and by now Brad can see the expanse of his skin underneath the raincoat, knows he’s not wearing a shirt.

“The kind of pervert who wants to make a statement,” Brad rumbles at him, stopping a foot away, the cider dangling from his fingers as he holds it out.

Taako takes it, curls his fingers around the mouth of the bottle and tips it up to his lips, watching Brad all the while. Watching his eyes spark and narrow slightly, the hairs on the back of Taako’s neck standing on end as Brad steps into his space, traces a sharp claw down Taako’s sternum, dragging a line of sparks in his wake. A sudden quick jerk of his hand, and the remaining buttons flick open, leaving Taako’s chest exposed to the air of Brad’s apartment and revealing the cutoff shorts.

Brad laughs, admiring. “Oh, I see. Very good.” He takes the bottle back, tips his head back as he drinks the remainder; the line of his throat is silhouetted against the ceiling light and Taako wants very badly to surge up and bite him, suck a purpling mark under his jaw, provoke Brad to return the favour. He straightens his arms behind him, instead, lets the raincoat slide off his shoulders and down to the floor with a plasticky rustle. 

The bottle emptied, Brad places it carefully on the living room table beside him and sidles another inch closer, their legs brushing together. He settles his hands on Taako’s hips and traces his fingers idly around the waistband of the shorts.”Well. I suppose I could see my way clear to approving your application based on this evidence.” A hand roughly palms Taako’s ass, and then he feels a claw trace down the middle seam of the shorts, the soft buzz against the fabric and the pinpoint pressure going straight to his cock. Taako shivers, a soft moan sliding out of his throat without his permission.  

Brad’s other hand cups his ass and there’s a sudden jolting shift as he’s tugged off his feet, lifted; he wraps his legs instinctively around Brad’s waist and noses in to kiss at his jaw as his head spins, arousal suddenly spiking. Something about the ease with which Brad grabs at him, manhandles him, is- it turns him to putty, makes him want to curl himself around Brad’s frame and press every inch of skin together that he can manage, rut against him, unselfconscious.

Brad holds him there, fingers flexing against his ass as Taako breathes into his skin. “You know, I don’t know if these seem all that practical,” he says, finger tracing the hem of the cutoffs where it meets the join of ass and thigh. “They might chafe in hot weather.”

Taako groans, unbearably annoyed even while he just wants to grind up against Brad’s chest, not enough movement to get anywhere, his dick pressing up against the fly of the shorts. “Shut up, Bradson, gods, that’s not even funny-“

“Hmm,” Brad says, starting to walk them away from the living room, “I think you should indulge my jokes if you want me to make a favourable decision on your application.”

“You can’t hold my performance entitlements hostage to your stupid sense of humour,” Taako says, as Brad deposits him on the edge of the kitchen counter.

“I can hold them hostage to whatever I like,” Brad tells him, the satisfied tone of his voice pissing Taako off and making him want to sink to the floor and suck Brad’s dick with equal fervour. His hands curl around the backs of Taako’s thighs and tug him forward off the edge off the bench, kneading and stroking with his claws; Taako’s going to shake apart.

“These really are such excellent shorts.” Something in his voice pings a warning and Taako starts to struggle to his elbows, which just serves to improve the vantage point from which he gets to watch Brad say, seriously, “It really would be an absolute shame if something happened to them.” 

“ _Bradson_ ,” Taako says, trying for threatening but mostly sounding breathless and amused. “You can’t-“

Brad, very clearly, can. Can, and does; pierces the denim with a claw - it really isn’t the hardiest fabric but he was aiming for _clinging_ , not _durable_ \- right below Taako’s tailbone and tears the seam apart, right down to the inseam. The hard tug draws the material down viciously over Taako’s cock and he moans, strangled, and then starts to squawk a protest when Brad’s other hand presses in between the cheeks of his ass. There’s a sudden slide of slick and a rough press and he forgets (mostly) about the shorts and falls back to the counter, draping his arm over his eyes as he breathes through it. “You fucker.”

“The problem with wearing something like this is that I just want to fuck you while you’re wearing it,” Brad murmurs as he moves his fingers, just barely short of rough; Taako tries to wriggle towards them but Brad’s other hand pins him to the counter, claws digging into his hip. “And so, we make do.”

“What’s the- fuck- what’s the policy on- on wanton destruction of another employee’s property, you jerk, don’t fucking stop-“ Brad’s fingers do something tricky, a filthy slide and press, and Taako finds himself arching up off the counter with a whine.

“Mediation is our preferred dispute resolution policy,” Brad says, “but in this case I’m happy to facilitate a more direct solution,” as he withdraws his fingers and pulls Taako’s hips forward, then slides into him, unrelenting.

Taako’s cock is pressing against the front of the shorts and it’s painful and he’s so hard but he lets out a broken little moan and twitches down, accommodating; Brad slides a gentle hand up and down his sternum, and says “Are you all right?” It’s - gentle, and he has to close his eyes against it, blocking out the sudden switch in mood.

“Lift me,” he says abruptly, holds out his arms; Brad huffs a breath and curls a hand around Taako’s back, ass - levers him swiftly up off the counter with a swift movement and _fuck_ , he must honestly weigh nothing to him, and he doesn’t want that to be so hot but he can’t help feeling breathless and - something darker, more intense, embarrassing but undeniable. It’s the same thing that flashes through his mind when Brad leaves marks on his skin, bends him in half on the bed, the same hot spike of lust at the thought of being- controlled-

It makes him feel hot, skin too tight, and he bites at Brad’s collarbone instead of thinking about it, flexes his thighs to shift himself on Brad’s cock when he feels up to it, the moan spilling out of Brad’s mouth like music to his ears. “Yeah?” Taako says, nips again at the bone, sucks a mark into Brad’s skin. “I think I’m all right.”

“I’m so glad,” Brad says, as he props Taako against the edge of the bench, the line of it digging into his lower back but he can’t even bring himself to care as Brad starts to thrust, slow. He locks his arms around the back of Brad’s neck, digs his hands into his hair, bites a kiss into the side of his mouth. “I do live for employee satisfaction.”

“Good, satisfy me,” Taako says, tart. The slide of Brad’s cock into his ass is good, he can’t focus on it while he’s still trapped in the shorts, his own cock pressing up against the inside of the zip. Brad smirks at him and pushes forward hard and sudden, and Taako bites out a whine as he shifts his hips for friction.

“That’s no good, is it,” Brad says, and reaches down to flick open the fly one handed before tearing the shorts the rest of the way with a sudden sharp tug. Taako screeches a protest, but his sudden tensing just clenches his ass around Brad’s cock and then the orc’s hand closes over his dick and Brad pushes him back onto the counter and slows his pace, matching his thrusts to the movement of his hand.

Taako wants so badly to be angry, and he opens his mouth to give Brad a piece of his mind but what comes out is a moaned, “Full, don’t _stop_ ,” and he would be horrified at himself but he can’t help panting, writhing.

“I appreciate the feedback,” Brad says, and he’s grinning and it’s absolutely unbearable because it’s _working_ , Brad’s stupid jokes have been grinding away at his resistance for months and he’s starting to find them _funny_ of his own accord.

“I’m going to kill you,” Taako announces, mock-frowning until Brad twists his hand at the top of his stroke the way Taako can’t resist and his head tips forward onto Brad’s shoulder.

He doesn’t have enough leverage to move much, so he bends forward and fixes his mouth around the piercing instead, sucking hard. Brad lets out a shuddery little breath, and his hips stutter, before he gets ahold of himself again. He pauses, for a moment, and Taako can feel him, pulsing-

“Fuck, just- please, move, I want-“

“Oh, you’ll have,” Brad says, voice gone raw and snarling, and it sparks off the _thing_ inside him and Taako makes a high thin noise in his throat and presses himself up against Brad’s torso, mouthing at the pulse in his neck as Brad fucks him. He starts to let Taako’s own weight drag him down onto Brad’s cock, and that’s it, it slams into him abruptly, and he comes into Brad’s hand with a short, choked, sob.

Brad pushes him back onto the counter, abrupt but still somehow careful, his own voice strained as he says, “Can I just-“

“ _Yes_ ,” Taako says, fervent, as Brad curls down over him and fixes his own teeth into Taako’s shoulder as he fucks him roughly, comes with a growl. He pants into Taako’s shoulder for a moment, then lifts himself up with a look of mock-regret.

“Sorry about the shorts.”

“Ugh,” Taako says, folds his arm over his eyes again, mostly to hide how little he actually cares about the summary destruction of his clothing. “I can’t fucking believe you.” His legs are trembling as he slowly lowers them from Brad’s waist to dangle over the edge of the counter.

“Mmm,” Brad says, breathless. Taako hisses as he loosens his grip on Taako’s hips, scratched marks making themselves known anew. “They were in my way.” It’s teasing, but there’s that same ruthless thing in his tone that makes Taako want to scramble to do whatever he asks, which is something he’s going to have to think about, later.

“I know Mending, whatever,” he says, levers himself up onto his elbows. “But you still wrecked my shit.”

“Yes, I did,” Brad says, and quirks a smile. He drops to his knees, presses a kiss to Taako’s calf, and starts to loosen the laces on his sneakers.

“You don’t- I can take off my own shoes, Brad, you don’t-,” Taako says, in a rush, suddenly embarrassed by this, an unexpected intimacy. The mood has changed again and the difference is too marked, the bareness of it. He sits up, preparing to push himself down onto the floor, but Brad smiles up at him so openly that all the air leaves his lungs for a moment.

“Of course you can, you’re very capable,” Brad tells him amiably, still flicking the laces; hand sliding down the back of Taako’s calf as he levers off the heel of the shoe, tosses it aside. Moves onto the other one, movements swift and practised, and before Taako can come up with a course of action to get out of this both his shoes and socks have been efficiently removed.

Brad stands, and leans in - kisses him again, sweet and open, and Taako finds himself making a small yielding noise, pressing back into it. “As far as evidence goes, it’s not technically within the terms of the ERA,” he says, thoughtful, “but I can make an allowance for you just this once.” A pause, and then, unbearably smugly, “To grant your allowance.”

Taako groans. “That’s not even that good! It’s not even a pun!”

“I’ll take that on board and do better next time,” Brad says seriously, eyes bright with amusement.

**Author's Note:**

> I have to thank my friend [@woven_gulch](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Woven_Gulch/pseuds/Woven_Gulch) for a couple of my favourite jokes from this one. 
> 
> Happy Bradko Day!


End file.
